


Crash Landing

by FullOnLarrie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-07 22:05:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13444365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullOnLarrie/pseuds/FullOnLarrie
Summary: Louis crashes weddings for the thrill of it. He gets dressed up, uses fake names, and makes up stories to go along with each new persona. Sometimes he'll find someone on the guest list to spend the evening drinking and dancing with (among other things). No strings attached and he never sees them again. That is, until he meets a fellow wedding crasher.





	Crash Landing

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta, [Nic](http://louandhazaf.tumblr.com)!
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> **If you’d like to translate any of my fics, feel free, but please post the translation on ao3, and send me a link so that I can include it in the author’s notes.**
> 
> **Please do not post this fic or any of my other fics on any other websites.**

Louis steps out of the Uber, shrugs on his tux jacket and straightens his tie, then hurries to beat a group of four white-haired older women to the entrance so that he can pull both doors open for them. Between one set of double doors and the next, he learns that the happy couple are named Erica and Eric, they’re in their mid-thirties, this is the second marriage for both of them, they don’t live in town, but met while vacationing here (it was a whirlwind romance over those two weeks), that they both have children who aren’t attending the reception, and that the guest list is long and filled with mostly visitors from out of state. Perfect.

Louis tells them that his name is Will, says he’s one of the few guests who’re from the area, who met the bride and groom on one of their very first dates where he was hosting karaoke at one of the bars downtown. The ladies are enamored with him right off the bat and when they walk inside the banquet hall where the reception is being held, they each kiss Louis on the cheek and he says they’ll meet them on the dance floor later.

First, he has to take a look around. He tried to get ready a little earlier than usual so that he’d have plenty of time to figure out his game plan for the night. It looks like the bride and groom haven’t arrived at the reception yet and neither have most of the guests, so Louis goes straight for the bar. It’s a generous pour, so he sips slowly on his gin and tonic and watches in the long mirror hanging on the wall behind the bar as people slowly start to fill the room. The DJ seems to have an affinity for eighties music, so Louis bops his head to the beat. He turns and scans the room until his eyes catch on the gorgeous guy watching him from the opposite edge of the dance floor.

Instead of a tux like every other man in the room, he’s wearing slim-fitting black trousers, a black and white floral print shirt that’s barely buttoned, and a black jacket. There’s a thin black scarf or something around his neck rather than a tie, and Louis is certain he saw tattoos when his shirt moved across his chest. That’s something new. Louis lifts his chin and catches the guy’s eye, licks his lips and bites down on his bottom lip, but stays put, leaning back against the bar, and waits.

The man is gorgeous, a little taller than Louis, and he grins and raises his eyebrows. Louis sips his drink to give himself something to do and to keep him from drooling, as the man starts to walk toward him. He swears that the closer the man gets, the prettier he looks, until he’s a few feet away and absolutely breathtaking and Louis is having a hard time finding his voice. 

So it’s a good thing that he doesn’t have to speak first.

“Hello,” his voice is low and slow as he extends his hand, and while they shake, Louis pulls himself together. “I’m Edward. And you are?”

“Will,” Louis answers and narrows his eyes slightly. “Nice to meet you, Ed.”

“Edward,” he corrects with a small smirk and drops Louis’ hand that he’s been holding for too long.

“Right. Edward. So, _Edward,_ bride or groom?” 

“I thought you’d go for the job question.”

“Not tonight, sweetheart. Got to keep you guessing.” Louis winks and takes a sip of his drink, then sets it on the bar. “So. Bride or groom? And how do you know them?”

Edward clears his throat and looks around, clears his throat again, clearly nervous, then seems to relax and says, “Oh, Eric and Erica? I, um, used to babysit for Erica when I was younger. Watched her kids after school and if she ever needed a night out.” He shrugs and grins, but before he can say anymore Louis interrupts.

“Where are you from then?”

“I am from here actually.” He tips his glass toward Louis and asks, “And you?”

“Here as well.” Louis nods and picks up his glass, then swirls the ice around in his drink. “It’s interesting, you know. _Intriguing,_ one might say.”

Edward’s eyebrows furrow and there’s a slight pout to his lips. “What is?” 

“Oh, just… How did you babysit Erica’s kids if you’re from here and she lives in Pennsylvania?”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah…” Louis tilts his head and watches as his cheeks turn a pretty pink and the skin of his chest that’s visible from his unbuttoned shirt flushes darker than his cheeks. “So, it’s kind of a funny story, but I run this karaoke night thing downtown and Eric and Erica came in one night. It was right after they met, so they were all over each other, you know? Anyway, Eric did like, six songs that night, dedicated them all to Erica. They were a lot of fun. She called the bar where I host and asked me to come tonight.”

“Fuck. That’s so much better than mine.”

Louis snorts and waves the bartender over, orders another gin for himself and a Cosmo for Edward. “I believe we’re tied. And since I won tonight, I’m ready for you to pay up.”

Edward searches Louis’ face, looking slightly apprehensive, but he nods. 

“Your real name.”

A relieved smile spreads slowly across his face, then he shakes his head slightly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I?” Louis raises his eyebrows and says, “Well, that’s what I want. What’d you think I was going to ask for?”

He shrugs both shoulders and bites down on his lower lip hard enough that there are teeth marks when he finally lets it go. “It’s Harry.”

Louis reaches up and smooths the backs of his knuckles down the scarf that Harry has tied around his neck, making sure that he touches just a bit of warm skin. “Well, Harry, want to try that again?”

Harry nods and straightens up, tilting his chin up slightly. 

“So, _Harry,_ who knows the bride because he’s from Pennsylvania, _which is where she lives._ What do you do?”

Harry blinks slowly once, looks at something over Louis’ shoulder, then says, “I’m a chef. Actually, I work here.”

Louis sputters slightly. He didn’t expect that one. “Nice one. That’s much more believable.”

“Yeah, normally I’m in the kitchen making all the food everyone’s been eating all night. Was actually back there this morning, helping get everything ready. Had to ask for the night off.”

Louis smiles and downs the rest of his drink. “Did you really?”

“Well, yeah. Had to be here for Eric and Erica.” Harry nods solemnly, then quietly adds, “Was kind of hoping to run into you.”

Louis looks up at him through his eyelashes with a small smile and waits for a moment because that’s twice tonight that Harry’s said something he wasn’t expecting. He pushes his thoughts aside and mentally shakes himself, then looks up at Harry, wiggles his eyebrows, and asks, “Had enough to drink yet to get out on the dance floor?” 

Because every other time they’ve done this, even the first time, when Harry cornered Louis in the hallway outside the bathroom to tell him that it was pretty much impossible for Louis to be the dentist who unwittingly brought the happy couple together since the bride and groom were both dentists themselves, it’s been understood. They don’t know each other. They don’t know anything about each other. Sometimes they run into each other when they both crash the same wedding, but other than the flirting and the one upmanship, there’s nothing to it. 

Something about tonight feels different. 

Maybe because it’s been a few months since they’ve seen each other and Louis has crashed three weddings since then without seeing Harry or maybe it’s because the last wedding they simultaneously crashed ended in a draw. They were both caught at the same time and thrown out of the reception… caught making out in the bathroom.

“Ehh…” Harry sways a bit from side to side. “Yeah, I think so.”

Louis starts to lead him through the crowd, hoping that dancing will prove enough of a distraction, then stops and turns to look back at Harry, cackling because the DJ has just started a new song and it’s nowhere close to the eighties pop music he’s been playing all night. Harry wrinkles his brow and looks at Louis for a second, clearly confused as to why he’s laughing, but then he must hear it because he raises his eyebrows as the banjos come in.

They’re still laughing when they reach the center of the dance floor and the entire crowd yells along with the music, “Save a horse, ride a cowboy!” 

Before Louis can wonder exactly how they’re supposed to dance to the song, the people around them start to move into rows, and the next thing he knows, he and Harry are giggling as they learn how to line dance.

They heel-toe and take a step forward, followed by a step back, then everyone turns to the left, except Harry, who turns right, which brings him face-to-face with Louis, who is taking this whole thing quite seriously. Of course as soon as he sees Harry falter and try to turn around and keep up, he loses his place and forgets what comes next. He’s sweating and laughing—both hands and his forehead resting on Harry’s shoulder—trying to catch his breath, which sends Harry stumbling sideways with a loud whoop of laughter. 

Thankfully the song ends and when the piano starts and people surrounding them start to pair off, Harry’s eyes go wide and he grins maniacally, his body practically shaking with excitement. “I love this song!” 

Louis can’t help but be endeared by a grown man being that happy to hear Shania Twain’s “You’re Still the One” at a wedding reception, so he grabs Harry’s hands and loops them over his shoulders, then circles his arms around Harry’s waist. 

“Nobody ever dances with me to Shania,” Harry whispers just loud enough for Louis to hear him. “Thank you.”

Louis tilts his head to the side, winks and smiles. “Looked like it would make you happy. How could I not?”

They sway and spin slowly in circles, while Harry hums and occasionally sings along, and it’s… really nice. Louis doesn’t know what to think. This isn’t what he does and it isn’t how he acts, especially at crashes. He’s hooked up with strangers and made out in storage closets and been chased off by security. He’s made a habit of avoiding the dance floor until after the cake’s been cut and the bouquet’s been thrown and everyone’s mostly drunk and no one will notice him. Tonight he’s out on the dance floor a few songs after the bride and groom had their first dance and he’s hoping that maybe the DJ will play another slow song after this. Because Harry is warm and he smells incredible and he doesn’t want to let him go, which feels especially strange. 

When the last notes play and Harry steps away, Louis follows him, but he stops himself and drops his arms to his sides, trying to think of what to do next. Harry beats him to it and says, “Thank you for dancing with me. You didn’t even try to touch my ass and your hands were _right there.”_

Louis sputters, then snickers into his hand and blushes, because he was sure thinking about it.

Harry does a little bow and says, “You’re a true gentleman, Will.”

And for a second, Louis is confused and thinks Harry isn’t finished talking, like he’s going to ask him a question. But then it sinks in and he remembers. _He’s_ Will. Suddenly he feels overheated and probably irrationally angry at Will, which doesn’t really make sense, but he can’t just tell Harry his real name. It wouldn’t be fair and it definitely wouldn’t fit in with this little competition that they’ve invented, so he excuses himself to the restroom to try to pull it together. 

Instead of the one just outside of the reception hall, he heads down the corridor and around the corner to the restroom beside the smaller, unused, banquet room. The lights are off and it’s empty so Louis feels like he can stomp and growl a little bit and get it out of his system because this is supposed to be fun, this is supposed to be a way to blow off steam, this is supposed to be a good night out by himself. 

Harry is just something extra on top of an already enjoyable evening. He’s done this dozens of times and Harry isn’t the only man he’s met at one of his crashes, he isn’t the only man he’s lied to about his identity and he isn’t the only man Louis has kissed and expected never to see again.

The difference being that he _has_ seen Harry again. And again. This is the fifth time they’ve bumped into each other while crashing the same wedding, and if it were anyone else, Louis would be irritated that someone was encroaching on his territory. But it isn’t just anyone, it’s Harry. And somehow, simply knowing his real name has made things different. If he didn’t know any better, Louis would think he was developing feelings for Harry, which is just absurd, all things considered. 

It’s simply a physical attraction with maybe a little crush on Harry because he’s funny and sweet. Add that to the fact that it’s been a while since he’s had a boyfriend. Or a date. Or sex. 

He pulls off his jacket, and wets a paper towel, then pats it on his face and the back of his neck and blinks at himself in the mirror. After he wills the weird yearning in his gut to disappear, he gives himself a quick pep talk. He’ll have a few more drinks, then disappear before the bride and groom make their grand exit. While he’s thinking about it, he arranges for an Uber to pick him up in an hour. 

He slides his jacket back on, slips his phone into his pocket, and walks out into the dim hallway to find Harry leaning against the wall. Louis looks towards the reception, then back to Harry. “Waiting for me?”

Harry nods and pushes off the wall. “I, um… well, I had to pee.” He shrugs. “Too many cosmos. And you weren’t in there, so I figured you were down here.”

“Here I am.” Louis points both of his thumbs at his own chest and steps closer to Harry, who grabs his hand and pulls him down the hall until he rounds a corner into an empty alcove. Harry backs himself against the wall, tugs Louis to him, drops his hand and grips Louis’ waist, bringing him closer. The chances of them getting caught and thrown out twice have to be small, so Louis goes with it. He stands with his feet on either side of Harry’s and when Harry reaches up and cradles his jaw, Louis lets him kiss him. 

He lets Harry run his hands up and down his back and over his ass. Lets him pull him in by his hips until they’re pressed together. Lets him suck on the skin of his neck until he’s positive there’ll be a mark left behind. Lets Harry rut against him, making them both harder until that’s all Louis can feel. And, fuck. When Harry flicks his tongue against Louis’ ear, then moans long and low, he just wants. Wants to see him naked. Wants to get a better look at the tattoos he’s only seen flashes of until now. Wants to touch him and fuck him and lick him and suck him.

Louis grinds their hips together and leans back until he catches Harry’s eye. “We can’t… I can’t come in my tux, Harry.” He laughs breathlessly and looks toward the hallway. 

“Yeah…” Harry nods and bites the corner of his lower lip. “Let’s…” Instead of finishing his thought, he pushes off the wall, causing Louis to take a step back, then grabs Louis’ hand and they’re off again. Back into the hallway and further away from the reception until they come to a staff-only door that Harry pushes through. He leads Louis through an empty corridor, past the towering wedding cake waiting on a wheeled cart, out another door onto a small patio.

Harry steps closer to the edge of the patio and Louis follows. There isn’t a light on the patio, all Louis can see is Harry’s face illuminated by the moon. Louis peeks around the edges of the patio walls. There’s nothing really on either side, just a few cars in what must be the employee parking lot. 

“This is where the kitchen staff come for breaks.” Harry turns and leans his back against the wall. “Sometimes, after we get a huge rush, after we get all the food out of the kitchen, I come out here to catch my breath.”

“Wait, you really work here?” Louis’ heart leaps inside his chest because Harry apparently gave him two things when Louis only won one.

Harry grabs Louis’ hips, spinning them around, pushing Louis against the wall, and kisses him again. Almost immediately they’re back where they were a few moments before because they’re both still hard and, once again, Louis is worried about coming in his pants. It’s just… the dry cleaning. But before he can mention it, Harry pulls back, panting, and asks, “Can I suck you off?”

As if he’s going to say no. Louis nods and Harry drops to his knees while Louis’ pulse races, the thought of having Harry’s mouth on him coupled with the fact that they’re outside where anyone could see them is overwhelming. 

Somehow, Louis maintains his grip on reality while Harry undoes his pants and pulls them down. He’s coherent enough to be thankful for the unseasonably warm spring weather, to be glad that he wore his nice black briefs, and to wonder how on earth he got to where he is right now. Because a couple of years ago, he started crashing weddings in an effort to get over his ex-fiance, and he kept doing it for the rush, but lately the rush hasn’t been the same. This, though. This is the ultimate rush.

Harry licks around the head of Louis’ dick and stares into Louis’ eyes while he takes him into his mouth. The wet heat contrasts with the slight chill in the air and Louis is suddenly shivering and covered in goosebumps. Harry’s right hand moves in sync with his mouth, his fist meets his lips, and his left hand smooths down the hair on Louis’ thigh, then slides up the back of his leg to palm his ass. Louis’ his hips stutter forward uncontrollably and Harry groans around him and sucks more of him into his mouth. 

It’s been too long since Louis has been touched like this and combined with the fact that they’re practically doing it outside where anyone could see, means that it’s going to be over soon. Harry squeezes Louis’ ass and brings him forward, dropping the hand that was encircling the base of Louis’ cock to press down on his own straining erection, while taking Louis so deep into his mouth that he feels the head of his cock nudge the back of Harry’s throat. Harry pulls back and then takes him down again and again, sucking hard on the head, then sliding his slick lips tightly over Louis’ shaft. 

Louis runs his fingers through Harry’s hair, digging his nails into Harry’s scalp, and grunts every time Harry’s hand on his ass brings him forward. When the tip of Harry’s dry finger slips between his cheeks and drags over his rim, his body doesn’t know what to do. He tries to push back against Harry’s finger at the same time that Harry pushes the tip inside, forcing Harry’s finger further in. Louis gasps and cries out Harry’s name, trying to warn him, but it’s too late. He’s already coming, filling Harry’s mouth and watching him try to swallow it all without choking. It’s too much; some of it dribbles out of the corner of Harry’s mouth and Louis watches it drip down his chin until it’s just about to fall, then Harry catches it with his thumb, licks the tip of Louis’ dick and sucks his thumb into his mouth.

The sight is almost too much. Louis reaches down and pulls Harry to his feet, crashes their mouths together, moaning at the taste of himself on Harry’s tongue, and forces his hand down the front of Harry’s pants while Harry undoes his belt, button, and zipper. He wants to get his mouth on Harry, but he wants to kiss him more, so he frees Harry’s cock from his underwear, pushing them down just enough so that the elastic is tight under his balls. 

Louis wraps his hand around him, gives his a few slow strokes, and drags his thumb over his slit. He pulls his head back, pops his thumb in his mouth, then licks the palm of his hand before starting to jerk him off fast. Harry moans into his mouth and his body trembles. Louis keeps his fist tight and his rhythm even, while kissing along his jaw and sucking on the skin below his ear. When Louis threads his fingers through Harry’s hair and tugs, Harry fucks into Louis’ fist and whines.

Louis bites down on Harry’s neck and sucks harder and Harry says, rough and low, “Will… Oh, fuck…”

There’s no question this time. Louis knows that Harry isn’t trying to ask him anything, and he doesn’t hesitate. “Louis. My name’s Louis.”

Harry’s breath hitches, his entire body shudders, and his voice catches as he whimpers Louis’ name and comes into his hand. Harry rests his forehead on Louis’ shoulder while he works him through it, then he takes half a step back grabs Louis’ wrist, gently pulls his hand up, and licks it clean. 

Louis leans his head back against the wall and tries to catch his breath. Fuck. That was incredible. Louis pulls his pants up and tries to straighten his clothes. He’s suddenly quite glad for his tuxedo jacket, which he fully buttons to cover the wrinkles in his shirt and pants. Just as he looks up to see that Harry still standing there looking dazed, slowly tucking himself away, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Without checking, he knows it’s the Uber waiting for him out front in the parking lot, and he panics. Because tonight went all sorts of wrong. 

So he runs. 

Back through the empty corridor, past the wedding cake, down the hallway, and through both sets of double doors. He doesn’t even pause to check that he has the right vehicle before sliding into the backseat of the only car waiting just outside the entrance. The driver must be able to sense that he doesn’t want to talk, just confirms that he has the right passenger, and they’re off.

Louis watches out the window as they leave the parking lot, then rests his head against the back of the seat. He can never crash a wedding there again. Not if Harry works there. And, fuck, what the hell was Harry doing crashing a wedding there? It doesn’t make sense, but Louis supposes it doesn’t have to. He sighs and closes his eyes for the rest of the ride home.

«»

Over the next month or so, Louis doesn’t crash any weddings. They’ve lost their draw. The thrill is gone, so to speak, and he’s pretty much decided to give the whole game up for good. 

At around the two-month mark, he hears through his grapevine of connections at churches and banquet halls that there’s a massive wedding coming up. Hundreds of guests, a huge buffet, an open bar with top shelf liquor, and a bride and groom who will likely be having too much fun of their own to notice an extra attendee. It’s the perfect wedding to crash and Louis feels like he has to do it. It’ll be his swansong. 

It’s a Saturday evening wedding, but according to Louis’ connection at that particular beachside venue, it’s not a formal event, so rather than his ‘typical wedding, clean shaven’ look with his hair styled up and back off his face, he trims and shapes the beard he’s been growing out and leaves his hair down. There’s a pair of tight, white skinny jeans that he hasn’t worn in a few years hiding in the bottom of his dresser drawer and he has to wiggle a bit to get them over his ass, but they still fit. He pulls his favorite blue button up out of the drier and puts it on, leaving the top few buttons undone, just enough to let a bit of his collarbone tattoo peek out. His white slip-on vans go perfectly. One last look in the mirror and he’s out the door.

The reception was set to start at six and it’s a quarter after when the Uber drops Louis off one block over from the venue. He joins a group of people in the overflowing parking lot, trailing behind them slightly, and follows them inside. 

It’s crowded. This is the second time he’s crashed a wedding reception at this venue, but he’s actually attended one other as a guest, and there are more people in the banquet hall than he’s ever seen. He stays behind the group he followed in from the parking lot until he sees a clear path to the bar, then he veers off in that direction. 

With a full drink in hand, he starts to walk the perimeter of the room. Typically, for the first hour or so of these things, the music is quiet, the guests are too, and there’s an air of anticipation while everyone waits for the happy couple to arrive. This time the music is louder than usual and the lights are dimmer, but everything else is the same. Except that it’s so fucking crowded. Twice people knock into him and the only reason he doesn’t spill his drink is luck. Still, he hurries to empty his glass, just in case. 

Since this is his last crash, he’s been pondering what sort of story to go with. Part of him wants to make it boring—call himself Lewis, say he’s an elementary school teacher instead of a professor, and stay under the radar. But a slightly larger part of him has decided to go with big and ridiculous. His name is Carl, he works from home as a video game designer and in his free time, teaches people how to swallow swords. It’s a challenging identity, especially since he can hardly _think_ the words ‘swallow swords’ without giggling, so there’s no telling how it will come out when he says it out loud.

Once he finishes walking around the room, he finds a spot at the bar, gets a second drink, and eavesdrops while he sips it. He’s not getting any information out of the people around him though, and it’s frustrating. Louis tips the bartender and heads for the nearest server carrying a platter because he’s halfway through his second martini on an empty stomach. He makes it just in time. With a cocktail napkin full of stuffed mushrooms and mini-quiches, he tries to lose himself in the crowd because the DJ just announced that the newlyweds are on their way inside, and he usually likes to take the opportunity to check out the rest of the venue while everyone else is occupied. He ducks out the side entrance just as the bridal party starts to come through the main doors.

It’s all review at this point, he’s been here before, but just as a refresher, while he eats, he heads down the hall, past the restrooms and the kitchen, to the back emergency exit. The alarm isn’t set, the door’s actually cracked open a bit, so he nods to himself and walks back towards the reception, stopping off at the restroom on the way. He’s kind of hoping to find someone to try his story on, like maybe someone’s grandpa will see him in the corridor and ask his name, but he doesn’t bump into anyone until he’s almost back to the party. 

There’s a group of older women standing in the corridor, so Louis seizes the opportunity. He’s never met an elderly woman who didn’t immediately fall in love with him and he’s just barely managed to extend his hand and say, “Good evening, ladies.” when someone gently, but firmly, grabs his forearm.

“Louis.” 

He feels an odd combination of panic and arousal as he recognizes the voice. 

“Was hoping to see you here tonight.”

Louis turns and tries to absorb everything at once. Harry’s wearing an off-white linen suit with a light blue button up shirt underneath and he looks amazing. As usual. The exit is right there, right behind Harry, and Louis thinks he can make it if he can take Harry by surprise.

“Don’t run off,” Harry mumbles and guides Louis backwards until his heels knock into the wall. “Who are you tonight?”

It takes him a second for him to process Harry’s words, but then he feels himself relax into the role. “Carl. Video game designer. Part time sword swallower.”

Harry snorts. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“No.” Louis rolls his eyes. “I mean actual swords.”

“That’s ridiculous, Louis. No one is going to believe that.”

“Yeah, well, I…”

“You?”

“This is supposed to be like… my last time doing this.”

“Is it really?”

Louis nods and bites his lip.

“Well, I’m glad you picked this wedding then.”

“Why? Who’re you tonight?”

Harry still hasn’t let go of Louis’ arm and he guides him away from the wall, toward the door, and back into the reception. “I’m Harry Styles. Groomsman.” He turns to him and grins as he gestures to the line of attendants along the side of the dance floor. His suit matches the rest of the groomsmen.

“Fuck…” 

“I don’t know… I mean, look what happened last time.” Harry actually smirks, which sends Louis’ mind spinning. He still wants to run. Probably, he could get away with it. Shove Harry and sprint for all he’s worth until he either throws up or falls down. He’s actually considering it, the embarrassment of just seeing Harry again would be bad enough, but having Harry talking to him like he didn’t run off before, like that never happened, like they’re friends, like this is just another wedding they’re both crashing… It’s overwhelming. And he can’t make his body do what he wants it to do.

Instead, it follows where Harry leads, even if that’s back to the bar. 

“So, Carl?”

Louis rolls his eyes and nods as he accepts the drink that Harry hands him. 

“Alright, Carl. What sort of video games do you design?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Harry, I’m not… You know that’s not really…”

“Do I?” Harry raises his eyebrows and studies Louis’ face. “For all I know it could be.”

Louis shakes his head. He wants to tell Harry the truth, but he can’t. There are too many layers of bullshit to get to the beginning of it anyway. “My name really is Louis.”

“Okay,” he says, and he sounds like he believes it.

“I’m sorry I ran away last time.”

“Are you really?”

After a deep breath, Louis says, “Yeah. I am. I… I was just suddenly so nervous and I didn’t know what to do, so I just…”

“Took off?”

“Yeah,” Louis whispers. They stand there, silently watching each other and sipping their drinks, until Louis can’t take it anymore. “I should go.” He turns to set his empty glass down on the bar, but when he takes a step away, Harry grabs his hand.

“Wait. Um… Do you…” Harry straightens up, sticks out his hand to shake Louis’, and says, “Nice to meet you, Carl, I’m George. I’m, um… I’m…” Harry turns his head side to side, finally settling on the stack of short tumblers right behind the bar. He reaches over, grabs the top three, and separates them so that he’s holding two in one hand, and one in the other. “I heard you teach sword swallowing and I’m a juggling instructor.”

Louis snorts, unable to stop himself because Harry is just… silly. But then he tosses the glasses up in the air and Louis squeaks and takes a step back. He can actually juggle. 

“Nice to meet you then, George.” Louis laughs as Harry catches the glasses and gently sets them back down on the bartop.

Harry pulls Louis by his hand, dragging him around the reception, introducing them to everyone as George and Carl and telling people that they teach at a clown college, and Louis lets him. It’s stupid, but it’s funny, and even the people who seem to actually know Harry go along with it. As if it’s something to be expected. As if he’s often just absolutely ridiculous like this. Maybe he is. 

The bride is beautiful. Louis has watched her watching them as they’ve made their way around the room, and he wonders what she thinks. But when Harry tries to pull him in her direction, Louis freezes. It doesn’t do any good though because Harry just waves at her and she comes to them instead.

“This him?” She asks, tilting her head, pursing her lips, and squinting her eyes at Louis.

Harry nods excitedly, then says, “I’m George and this is Carl—”

“Shut up, Harry,” she cuts him off, but her voice is fond. She points at Louis and sounds a little more serious. “I’m Gemma. And you’re crashing my wedding.” 

Fuck. Harry’s hand tightens its hold on his, so Louis isn’t going anywhere. “Yeah, um… Sorry about that.” Louis looks up at her through his lashes and bites his lower lip.

Gemma snorts and shoves his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that, you idiot. You’re not crashing. Not when Harry hasn’t stopped talking about you for months. At first you were just his plus one, but you’ve been on the official guest list as ‘Hot Louis’ for a while now.”

Louis sputters, but he can’t find the words. It doesn’t seem to matter anyway because Harry leans over and kisses him, then mutters against his lips, “I win.”

“Yeah, I suppose you do. What’s your prize, then?”

“A date. A real one. Where I can ask you all the questions I want to and buy you dinner and you don’t run off.”

Louis nods and says, “Might as well start now. What do you want to know?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, check out [my other fics](http://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=word_count&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=0&user_id=FullOnLarrie).
> 
> I live for comments and kudos and [here's a rebloggable Tumblr post](http://fullonlarrie.tumblr.com/post/172658830375/crash-landing-by-fullonlarrie-louis-crashes) if you'd like to share :D
> 
> Come say hello on [Tumblr!](http://fullonlarrie.tumblr.com)


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